


if our love is wrong

by qrangr



Category: The Royal Romance (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Mild Language, Sexual Tension, So much angst, a lot of crying, seriously like this is almost 3k of pure angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25409851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qrangr/pseuds/qrangr
Summary: all she wanted was a stress-free end to her night in the wake of the allegations against her, but instead she gets a stolen kiss that only makes things worse.
Relationships: Drake Walker & Main Character (The Royal Romance), Drake Walker/Main Character (The Royal Romance), Liam/Main Character (The Royal Romance)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	if our love is wrong

As soon as Maren stepped out into the cool summer air, she could already feel the tension she carried in her shoulders loosen. She let her bare feet carry her along the manicured pathways of Madeleine’s sprawling estate, uncaring that she still donned the elegant blush colored lace dress from earlier in the evening. Although, as she aimlessly wandered through the back garden, she wished she would’ve changed into something less constricting and had more coverage; she’d only been outside for a minute and already she could feel the chill in the light breeze, goosebumps prickling at her skin. 

The nighttime air was a nice reprieve for Maren from her newly found courtly life. It was like being transported back to the balcony of her apartment in New York where she would sit most late nights when the city was at its quietest. It wasn’t as clear and calm as Cordonian nights, but it gave her the same sense of tranquility — a feeling of being completely at home and safe. 

Maren found herself approaching a fire pit, the bright orange flames practically calling her name. It wasn’t until her naked feet hit the cool cobblestone pavers that she noticed a brooding hulk of a man already occupying one of the cushioned chairs around the pit. 

An instantaneous smile broke out on her pretty face and her heart surged in her chest at the sight of Drake sitting with his legs splayed open wide, an elbow on the chair’s armrest and his fingers sliding along his bottom lip—clearly deep in thought about something. She knew how scandalous it would be if the press caught word of Cordonia’s potential queen sneaking off with the newly crowned king’s best friend; quite frankly, as she plopped down in the seat beside him and caught the way his dark eyes followed her every move, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

For a moment, Maren relished in the heat of his gaze and the way it dipped to her swollen lips from her continuously biting them throughout the evening. He never failed to look at her with an intensity that made her spine tingle and all too soon she had to shift her focus onto the flames in front of them; she was fairly certain her entire body would turn into a liquefied mess if she didn’t. 

“Am I interrupting your brooding by the fire?” She finally asked, the teasing lilt to her soft tone complimenting the small wry grin on her lips. 

A husky chuckle rumbled through Drake’s chest and the hand at his mouth dropped as he moved to lean forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Me? Brooding?” The faux incredulity in his deep voice had him instantly drawing giggles from the woman beside him. The melodic sound made his heart twinge and he tamped down a ridiculous grin, instead settling for the faintest smile. “When am I ever brooding, Parker?”

Maren was pretty sure her eyebrows rose all the way up to her hairline. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

Drake simply reached to retrieve the glass of whiskey on the ground beside his chair to mask his budding amusement. Instead of responding, he raised the glass in her direction as a way of saying ‘touche’ and took a long sip. 

The dark-haired girl couldn’t help but let her eyes feast on the exposed skin of his neck as he tipped his head back, utterly entranced by the bobbing of his Adam's apple when he swallowed the smooth alcohol. She was reminded of the way the rough stubble covering his throat felt when she’d nudge under his jaw, her lips dancing over every inch she could in spite of the scraping beginnings of a beard against her skin. God, she really wanted to feel that painfully pleasant drag of stubble on her upper lip again as she kissed him breathless. 

“Parker.”

His low, gentle call of her name brought Maren back down to Earth and she blinked to focus her eyes on his. One look at the expression on Drake’s face was enough for her to know he knew exactly what she was thinking. 

He dropped his gaze to the nearly empty glass of whiskey in his grasp. He had to pretend to be fascinated by the amber liquid gliding along the solid cubes of ice to distract himself from how badly he wanted to tangle his fingers in her hair and drag his lips down the column of her throat. His grip tightened dangerously around the beverage at the mere thought, knuckles turning white with the force of it. “Lookin’ at me like that could get you into trouble, Parker.”

Before she could stop it, a shiver ripped through her body at the gruff warning in his voice. The domineering growl to the way he spoke had Maren biting back a gasp and swallowing the inexplicable desire to crawl onto his lap, perching herself astride his thick thighs for anyone to see. 

A sudden feeling of defeat and exhaustion settled in her bones. She was tired of stealing moments together when no one was around. She was tired of glancing across a crowded ballroom to drink him in, only to find he had hungrily been doing the same. She was tired of sneaking kisses and subtle brushes of fingers in passing. She wanted all of Drake Walker—not bits and pieces that she could only have behind closed doors and her shoulders caved inwards with the weight of forbidden love. 

Months of observing Maren Parker had given Drake an affinity for being able to read her like an open book. He immediately picked up on her shift in demeanor, the traces of desire fading from her face and her posture slouched forward. The charged atmosphere between them fizzled into one of melancholy and he had the smallest inkling of a feeling that he knew what was on her mind. 

“Hey,” Drake murmured softly, setting his whiskey aside to reach over and pull her chair closer to him. “Careful. Think any harder and you’ll hurt yourself.”

She tried to smile at his attempt to get back to the usual back-and-forth teasing that had become the norm for them, but she just couldn’t. Instead she felt the familiar burn of tears and the bright orange flames in front of her blurred beyond recognition. Once the first one fell, others followed until she was full-on crying from the deep seated unhappiness she’d been feeling since that night in the Beaumont study; it was the night they’d kissed for the very first time, but also the night he’d begun splintering her heart. 

“There is no ‘us.’”

The sound of him saying those four words to her was startlingly vivid—like he was screaming them in her ear over the crackling fire. She recalled how badly her chest ached as soon as his deep baritone finished uttering the last syllable. Weeks later, as she now sat outside Madeleine’s estate, it hurt just as badly as it had then. 

Swiping at her damp cheeks, Maren became hyper aware of Drake’s knee pressed against hers and she hated herself for the burst of anger she felt towards him. “All of this is complete bullshit and I’m just so tired.” Her voice was weak and watery with unshed tears and her hands shook with the force of her bitterness. “I don’t want to only be with you when no one’s watching. I want to kiss you whenever I want and be seen on your arm when we’re in public and I want the whole damn world to know that I’m fucking falling in love with Drake Walker and I-”

That familiar scratch of stubble on Maren’s upper lip was back as Drake tugged her forward by the back of her head and his lips slotted forcefully between hers. She felt his digits tangling in her loose brunette curls, grasping tightly as his hot tongue slipped into her mouth. It smoothed over her own until all she could taste was the rich, smokey tones from the whiskey he drank and it was intoxicating. So intoxicating, in fact, that she dug her fingers into the rough denim of his shirt and pulled him impossibly closer. 

A faint smack registered into the quiet nighttime air in Fydelia when they briefly separated, their puffs of breath tickling the other’s skin fleetingly before their lips came back together. He felt like a man addicted to the most dangerous drug as he tilted his head to taste her deeper, like he couldn’t get enough no matter what. Her tiny whimper into his mouth at his nipping teeth and ravaging tongue drew a groan from somewhere deep in his chest; he wanted to keep kissing her, coaxing more of those little noises from her and he would have...

But then it dawned on him exactly where they were and anyone could see them in their heated embrace and Drake physically tore himself away from her. 

“Shit, I’m…” He trailed off with a deep sigh, dragging his palms over his face harshly. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Maren’s heart tugged painfully—a sensation she was beginning to get used to. The lump forming in her throat was too prominent for her to get even one word out, so she lapsed into silence and felt the beating organ in her chest splinter a little bit more. 

The bright red-orange embers that flitted into the blackened, blue toned sky blurred with the pearl shaped tears pooling at her lashes for the second time that night. The throbbing behind her sternum where her heart resided was on the brink of unbearable and when Drake glanced over at her boneless body, slumped in defeat, the ache worsened. She heard his low, throaty curse and saw as he reached out for her from the corner of her eye but she shot out of her chair before he could. 

“Don’t touch me,” Maren said weakly, each word shaky and thick with emotion. 

Drake’s dark brows pinched together, her demand acting as an agonizing punch to his gut. He hated the way those three words sounded coming from the woman he had no doubt fallen in love with. He hated that he’d been the one making her say them. As he stared at her from across the fire, he despised himself the most. 

“Parker,” He breathed and reached out to her. “Baby, please c’mere.”

She pressed the tips of her fingers to the damp tracks of tears on her cheeks, carefully wiping them away and vehemently shook her head. “I, um—” She paused to swallow the gigantic growing lump in her throat. “I think coming out here was a mistake. I guess you were right about there being no ‘us.’”

Just before she turned sharply on her heel, she caught the pained look in his deep brown eyes that turned a molten, melted chocolate color in the light of the fire. The entire trek to her quarters her thoughts were filled with melted chocolate and the smokey taste of whiskey. 

* * *

He didn’t follow her. 

Sinking further into the luxuriously silky bed sheets, Maren wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. More than anything she wanted Drake to just completely surrender to his feelings and let himself fall with no restraints. She was tired of him fighting it, tired of the dance they were doing around each other when all she wanted to do was fall without abandon. But she couldn’t because the man she was falling for wasn’t the one she was supposed to be with. 

It should’ve been Liam; he was the epitome of a loving-kindness that took Maren’s breath sometimes. He was a gentleman, always considerate of her feelings with each and every word thought out with care before he spoke. He was gentle, touching her with an impeccable care that said more than any conjurable words could ever convey. He was quite literally the perfect man and she should’ve been head over heels for him. 

But she wasn’t. It was never Liam—even from that moment at her work all those months ago when she’d waited on their table at his bachelor party. 

It wasn’t Liam. It was his surly best friend that had a knack for sarcasm, snarky remarks, and all things denim. It was always Drake. It always would be Drake. 

Maren didn’t realize she was crying for the third time until her shoulders shook and the taste of salt permeated her tongue. They dripped down the tip of her nose when she turned her face further into the satin pillowcase and onto her over-sized sleep shirt, leaving behind a dark patch on the material. The volume of her cries almost masked the soft knocking on the other side of her door and she immediately muffled them with her pillow; that is until her ears were met with a low, husky voice that she was all too familiar with. 

Drake had his forehead rested on the wooden door, his heart thrumming painfully at the sound of his girl crying. “Baby,” He said, only just loud enough for Maren to hear him through the wood, and sighed heavily. He let his forehead smack against the door once in self-hatred. “I’m sorry, okay? Please open the door.”

Sheets rustling came from her side and he rose up slightly, one of his forearms coming up to rest on the door frame in anticipation. Instead of the door opening, he heard her voice ring out clearly from inside the bedroom. 

“Why?” She sounded so small and defeated and Drake hated it. “So you can kiss me again and tell me what a huge mistake it was?”

With a quick check to make sure the corridors were clear and that he was truly alone, he murmured, “Kissing you has never been a mistake to me, Parker.”

He barely caught her nearly inaudible scoff. “You sure haven’t acted like it.”

Growing increasingly frustrated, a low growl bubbled up from the back of his throat and he wiggled the doorknob irritatedly. “Open the damn door, Parker.”

As upset and angry as she was, Maren couldn’t deny the overwhelming part of her that just wanted to fall into his arms and slip back into their typical ways; she hated that their ‘typical’ was sneaking out of balls together or stolen moments at the end of a long day at court, but it was all they had for now. She had to accept that the time simply wasn’t right for them to come out as a couple yet — especially in the wake of the allegations against her. 

So she swallowed her pride and opened the door. 

An unmistakable sense of vulnerability bloomed in her chest as he drank in her pink cheeks, tear-soaked lashes, and baggy t-shirt that had a hole in the material at the neckline. It was a state he’d seen her in only once — the night at Applewood Manor when Tariq had put his hands on her in what was supposed to be the privacy of her own room. The rush of déjà vu that washed over Drake rekindled the way his gut had twisted painfully from seeing her so...fragile and dejected—exactly the way she looked as he gazed down at her now in her ratty t-shirt. 

Maren ducked her head and turned her back on him, unable to face him while he studied her with such intensity and tenderness. She heard his heavy footfalls entering the room and the subtle click of the door latching shut behind him; she almost smiled at how fitting it was that he always walked so loudly, even though it was the most inappropriate time to be amused. With his towering height and broad frame, it only made sense and she found that endearing. 

Goosebumps prickled at her skin as she felt him draw closer to her and then came a barely there brush of his knuckles from the hem of her shirt’s sleeve, down to her elbow and back up. Warm breath tickled at the slope of her neck when he dipped his head down lower; his lips grazed the shell of her ear and she felt every limb in her body grow taut, anticipating his next move or words. 

“You’ve never been a mistake to me, Parker.” Drake’s lips skimmed the curve of her neck, down to where her neck bled into her shoulder and she shivered as he spoke against the skin there. “You never will be a mistake to me.”

A swell of emotion sprouted inside Maren and the force of it rendered her speechless. In lieu of words, she slowly turned back towards him and she really, truly could’ve cried a fourth time at the adoration in his eyes but she decided to kiss him instead. 

So pushing herself up onto the tips of her toes and with a hand curled around the back of his head, she pulled him down to meet her halfway in a searing kiss. It might’ve been wrong to everyone in the royal court, but to her nothing in the world felt more right than his fingers cradling her jaw and the sweet scrape of his stubble on her chin. 

If it was so wrong then Maren Parker never wanted to be right. 


End file.
